


Eddie Kaspbrak Is: PA of the Year

by saintsrow2



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Sex, Body Worship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Clothed Sex, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Minor Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Thighfucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsrow2/pseuds/saintsrow2
Summary: Richie had given up on saying he didn’t need a PA when he realised, one particularly awful Wednesday, that he’d scheduled two very important meetings for the same time and now had no choice but to humiliate himself in front of somebody. After that, he’d given into his manager and told him to hire someone. Like, anyone.Richie’s new PA was called Eddie Kaspbrak, and he showed up on the first day wearing a fitted straight-leg blue suit and tie, his hair slicked back, carrying a briefcase and, opening the door of his studio apartment wearing a Star Wars T-shirt and plaid lounge pants, Richie briefly thought he was being taken in by the FBI.------Eddie Kaspbrak is new to LA and he knew he needed a job. Richie Tozier needed a PA. What neither of them needed was a giant crush. Unfortunately, that's what they got.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 73
Kudos: 1806





	Eddie Kaspbrak Is: PA of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> I think the first thing you need to know before you get into this is that I think those little 80s running shorts guys wear are the cutest thing ever and you better remember that reading this.

Richie had given up on saying he didn’t need a PA when he realised, one particularly awful Wednesday, that he’d scheduled two very important meetings for the same time and now had no choice but to humiliate himself in front of somebody. After that, he’d given into his manager, Jason, insisting that he couldn’t deal with handling his own schedule because his memory and attention span were what they were – which was to say they were poor – and told Jason to hire someone. Like, anyone.

Richie’s new PA was called Eddie Kaspbrak, and he showed up on the first day wearing a fitted straight-leg blue suit and tie, his hair slicked back, carrying a briefcase and, opening the door of his studio apartment wearing a Star Wars T-shirt and plaid lounge pants, Richie briefly thought he was being taken in by the FBI. He stood in the doorway, still a little dishevelled because he’d been up until 3 AM the night before and hadn’t really recovered, staring at the small incredibly neat man who was holding his coffee order before he’d even asked for it. 

“This is for you,” Eddie had said. “Black, two sugars. Jason Connolly sent me. Do you need to see my CV?”

“Uh,” Richie said. “Do you wanna come in?”

Eddie didn’t look impressed by the state of Richie’s apartment, which wasn’t even that messy. It was just, like, disorganised. Eddie’s CV, which Richie looked at because he felt like he should, said he used to be fairly high-up analyst in an insurance company in New York. He’d had a string of fairly important roles in various very boring businesses over the years and Richie found himself staring over the top of the paper at Eddie, who was sitting on the edge of the couch like he was scared the dirty T-shirt slung over the back of it was going to bite him.

“Why are you working as a PA?” Richie said. “You’ve had like, real jobs.”

“I don’t know anyone in LA,” Eddie said, which explained a lot. The thin pale band around his ring finger were a ring might have once sat explained a lot of other things. Richie didn’t push for too many answers. It was LA. People went there because they didn’t want to be somewhere else.

Eddie was competent. Eddie was very,  _ very _ competent. It was, Richie confided in Bill, a writer friend who was working on his Netflix special with him, intimidating. Eddie wore designer suits and had a memory like a rolodex and would show up every morning with an itinerary of what they needed to do. He brought Richie coffee, organised his meetings, fielded his calls, planned press appearances, got him places on time. He could talk on the phone like the smoothest receptionist in the world or he could talk like he was running the stock exchange, and he could do both in a moment while running to get Richie’s laundry. Jason loved him.

“This guy is your  _ PA _ ?” Bill had said, the first time he met Eddie while he stood outside the office arguing over the phone with someone who had apparently made some kind of ridiculous offer. Richie didn’t even know who it was. “I feel like he should be telling us what to do.”

“Yeah, he like, used to work on Wall Street,” Richie said. “I don’t know what happened to him, but I feel like I just walked into a cat café with a tiger.”

“I don’t think you bring your own cats to cat cafés.”

“What? Then what the fuck is the point of them?”

Eddie walked back into the room and Richie swivelled in his chair to face him. Eddie always looked kind of annoyed, but that was just his face, maybe. Either it was just his face, or he really didn’t like Richie, at all, which wasn’t an option that was particularly pleasant to consider.

“Eddie, help me out. What’s the point of a cat café?” Richie said.

“To see cats,” Eddie said. “Is this a trick question?” 

“You always know how to make me feel stupid,” Richie said sweetly, which made Bill laugh and Eddie frown even more deeply than usual.

* * *

Half a year ago, Eddie had been working every day in a Wall Street business making the lower end of six figures. He had also been crushingly miserable; a low-level kind of misery that was so constant he didn’t even realise it was really happening to him, until someone pointed out that it wasn’t normal to have sobbing breakdown in the shower every morning. He’d made some life changes after that, which was why he was living in his friends Ben and Beverly’s spare bedroom while he tried to get his feet on the first few rungs of the Hollywood corporate ladder. 

Turned out it was hard when no one knew you from Adam, and also that savings didn’t last, especially when you had a divorce to pay for, and Eddie had taken the first job he could that didn’t pay a humiliatingly low wage. Richie Tozier had flaws, definitely, but at least he paid way over minimum wage. 

Eddie hadn’t seen anything of Richie’s before the interview, so he’d gone out of his way to see as much as he could, considering it ‘research’. The first couple of stand-up specials and movies he saw were fucking  _ dire _ , bottom of the barrel ‘I fucked your mom!’ stuff that had Eddie rolling his eyes and wondering if he’d really be able to handle working for this kind of complete knucklehead. But then there was a Netflix special released the year before, called  _ Coming out of the Trash _ and all of a sudden Richie was talking about the gay experience, and coming out when you were forty, and what it was like to start your life over and then Eddie suddenly remembered some gossip he’d seen a couple of years ago about some comedian who’d been very suddenly outed by an angry ex and put two and two together. He’d realised then that maybe working for Richie Tozier wouldn’t really be all that boring at all, and maddeningly, that he really wanted Richie to  _ like _ him. 

Not in a weird way. Not that it was weird to want someone to like you romantically or sexually, but this was a  _ job _ . He wanted Richie to like him as a trusted employee. That was what he meant. 

He’d had the job for a few weeks and thought Richie probably liked him. Richie was not quiet about disliking people; the guy couldn’t hide the eye rolling and sighs, let alone the sarcastic jokes when he thought someone was annoying. He was quick to judge and often right when someone wasn’t worth listening to, but also very firm about championing the opinions of people he trusted, an honesty beneath the loud-mouth bluster and bullshit that Eddie really took to. So it was clear Richie liked Eddie in the he listened to him and trusted him, and took him at his word a way he didn’t with assholes. The issue was that Eddie didn’t think Richie knew Eddie liked  _ him _ .

Eddie wasn’t strictly speaking  _ good  _ at making people like him. In his last job, people had either kind of gotten his sense of humour or hated his guts. He couldn’t help it; he just had a terse, snappy way of speaking and absolutely no tolerance for fools. A work friend had described him as ‘prickly’, but most people just called him a prick. And he just… He had that  _ face _ . He scrutinised himself in the mirror, looking at how seriously his brows were always set, how his mouth (ugh you have no lips, and that mole, and you clearly don’t get enough sleep, look at those bags under your eyes) was always a hard line. He had a face like a hatchet, he thought. 

Richie caught him glaring at himself in the mirror hanging in the hallway in the apartment and handed him a Starbucks cup.

“I know you’re beautiful, but I’m pretty sure I have a meeting in half an hour,” Richie said.

_ Beautiful _ ?

“I’m meant to get you coffee,” Eddie said, taking the cup. The cup said ‘Eds’.  _ Sorry? Who?  _ “Eds?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, brightly. “Let’s go, I actually wanna be in this movie.”

“You like the script?” Eddie said as they headed out of the apartment, walking to the garage where Richie’s overpriced sports car was housed. “I thought it was some family movie. You said it was dumb.”

It was something about a kid spy who had to save his dad from robots. Something like that. The director wanted Richie to play the dad.

“It is dumb, but I get to play a spy,” Richie said. “And I think they’re casting someone cute to play my husband. Paul Rudd, maybe. He’s definitely my type.”

Oh. It suddenly made a lot of sense why Richie wanted to be in the movie. Eddie didn’t know if it was appropriate to tell your employer  _ wow, I really sympathise with that _ , and he ended up saying:

“Your type?” 

Which on reflection, was probably even less appropriate, but Richie didn’t seem to mind. He chucked Eddie the car keys and hopped into the passenger seat as Eddie got in the other side.

“Yeah… Short-ish, dark hair, funny… Incredibly handsome,” Richie said.

“He’s not short. He’s like five-nine. That’s average height,” Eddie said, starting the engine.

“You’re five-nine?” Richie said, grinning in that way he did when he thought something was particularly funny, teeth showing.

“Yes,” Eddie said, not thinking too much about what Richie’s type was.

* * *

Richie got the part; the director had liked him from the start, so it was an easy sell. The bad news came a little after, when he was told how much running and fighting he was supposed to do. He didn’t need to be told that he needed to get a little more in-shape for this role, it was implied in the way the casting agent just like,  _ looked _ at him. He told Eddie to find him a personal trainer.

“No problem,” Eddie said. Nothing ever was. 

“Don’t you go running like, every morning?” Richie said.

“Yes.”

“Can I like, go with you?”

“Are you worried you’re not fit enough to see a personal trainer?” Eddie said, with that tone of slight disbelief he got sometimes when he thought Richie had said something particularly stupid. 

“Yeah… Like… Kinda?” Richie said. “Look, if you don’t want to…”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be here at six tomorrow,” Eddie said.

“Jesus. Do you, like, sleep? I should pay you more.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Richie more or less forgot he asked until it was six o’clock the next morning and his phone was going off because Eddie was outside his building waiting to get going. Richie scrambled out of bed and threw on some sweats and sneakers, racing to the door to try and make it look a little less like he’d just rolled out of bed. Eddie was standing on the steps to his building when Richie opened the door, wearing a light sports jacket and shorts and… Oh, fuck. The shorts were pretty short and also pretty tight, clinging to Eddie’s ass and showing off exactly how toned his thighs were. Richie’s eyes popped wide for a second before he immediately locked eyes with Eddie again.  _ So  _ not appropriate.

“You ready to go?” Eddie said.

“Yeah. Yep. Yeah,” Richie said, like he’d just crawled out of a pond and hadn’t fully evolved yet. He  _ felt  _ like he hadn’t evolved. 

He thought maybe the running would distract him and it did a  _ little, _ but every now and again when Eddie overtook him Richie’s eyes would drift down and then that perfect ass would be right there, under those tight little shorts that did nothing but accentuate those thighs. Jesus Christ. Richie should have asked Jason not to hire someone who was like, so obviously his type and so fucking  _ cute _ . Oh God, now he’d noticed Eddie was cute there was really no  _ un _ noticing it. He was probably going to have to fire him.

“Let’s stop for a second,” Eddie said, which was a good thing because Richie thought he was going to pass out. 

He sat down on a bench on the street, wiping sweat off his forehead, and Eddie handed him a bottle of water.

“I assumed you were going to forget to bring one,” Eddie said.

“You are… A really, really good assistant,” Richie said.

“I think not letting you die is a pretty key part of my job.”

* * *

Getting a crush on your boss was like obviously and easily the dumbest shit you could do, especially when you needed a good relationship with your boss to have more industry connections. It was stupid, and inappropriate, and could never happen, and Eddie kept telling himself that whenever he caught himself staring at Richie’s broad shoulders or his strong forearms or fuck he had… Just the nicest hands. Like really nice, firm hands, the kind of hands that Eddie couldn’t help but want to feel on him. Sometimes he’d zone out when he was doing some kind of mundane task like answering emails while Richie worked in the same room and just watched; it was so entertaining to watch Richie write, for some reason. He always had the same little frown when he was really concentrating, but then at times he’d think of something great and he’d smile like the idea was electrifying him, that huge, goofy smile all over his face.  _ Fuck _ . 

Bill noticed Eddie staring. One time he’d been watching for a second too long as Richie chugged a bottle of water, their eyes had met and he’d just cocked a single eyebrow, which had been enough to make Eddie sweat under the collar. Richie, however, was oblivious. That was probably for the best; Eddie was in no haste to fuck up his job.

Sometimes though, which no one really needed to know, Richie crossed his mind when he was alone at night. He’d stroke a hand over himself, brushing over his cock underneath his shorts, and think about what it might be like to have those hands tight on his hips, lips on the back of his neck.

He channelled his feelings into his job. It was fine. He liked turning up to meetings behind Richie, who was wearing a flannel shirt and stone-washed jeans, while he wore a buttoned-up suit and carried a briefcase. He liked wearing a bluetooth earpiece in his ear, and he liked the way Richie could just glance at him and he’d have the schedule at the ready. He liked being able to correct anyone who tried to give Richie any shit; an organiser for some private gala wanted Richie to do stand-up there and tried to go back on the terms of the contract. Being able to recite the entire thing and watching Richie just grin while the event manager tried to walk back his bullshit as quickly as possible made Eddie feel like he could punch the moon out of the sky.

He had it, in all, ridiculously easy. Other assistants were out trying to get specific burgers from closed restaurants at 3AM; the few times Eddie had been awake at that hour, helping out on red eye flights or the occasional party or event, Richie more or less gave up on any attempt at seeming like a ‘boss’, even less than he ever did, and invited Eddie to come drink or get food with him. He liked Richie the most in those times, when he was just throwing back beers and rubbing sleep out of his eyes, complaining that he was too old for this shit. In another life, maybe they would have been friends.

But y’know, he was Eddie’s boss. Eddie spent most of his days answering the phone, managing twitter, running fetch quests around the city, tidying the apartment, writing emails. He was the 24/7 Richie Tozier Emergency Hotline, and that meant running out of a boutique in Beverly Grove ten minutes before it closed because Richie had forgotten to tell him the suit was for a shoot the next day, but even then Richie was more apologetic than unreasonable. (“If you’d told me I’d have had it done last week!” Eddie had scolded, which had Richie’s manager and the executives he was in a meeting with look alarmed by the tone of voice, but Richie had just laughed.)

He went running with Richie every day, too. That was Eddie’s favourite part of the day, when it was just the two of them and Eddie was reminding him of the stretches they needed to do, the best pose you needed for running… Every time, he would demonstrate the right warm-up stretches and every time Richie would watch intently. Eddie could have done it without making a big deal out of it, he didn’t need to stand in front of Richie and do a long, slow stretch to show how high he could get his leg, but he did. He didn’t need to bend over or kneel down to do a full hamstring stretch, but when he did he could see the way Richie’s eyes clung to him, and he loved it. He didn’t need to physically put his hands on Richie to push his back into the best position, either, but he did, laying a palm over Richie’s stomach to gently push him so he stood up straight. Richie’s breath was shallow, his skin warm through the thin cotton of his T-shirt (a twelve year old Bubba Gump Shrimp Co shirt; when Eddie asked if Richie had ever been to a Bubba Gump Shrimp’s, and he said he hadn’t). 

He thought about how to get Richie to look at him like that more as he lay in bed, gripping his cock in his hand and thinking about those wide blue eyes holding on his body until he came with a soft whine in the back of his throat. 

* * *

“He dresses like that every time you go running?” Bill asked, watching Eddie walk past to get changed out of those  _ fucking _ tiny running shorts that now haunted Richie’s wet dreams like a ghost.

“Yeah?” Richie said, sitting on the couch in his front room and drinking a large bottle of water. They’d just gotten back from a run and he wasn’t sure he was getting any better at it. The heat didn’t help. 

“You know he wants to fuck you, right?” Bill said. 

“You’re crazy.”

“He’s wearing three-inch shorts and showering in your guest bathroom.”

“He’s my PA! We work out together!”

“And he wants your  _ P  _ in his  _ A _ so you can  _ work something else _ .”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. I’m getting changed and we’re going to go to that meeting with Netflix and you are shutting up.”

“Complain more, Rich, it only gets more convincing."

Richie gave him a warning stare as he walked out of the room.

At the meeting Eddie took notes and made coffee as Richie and Bill pitched ideas for the special to the Netflix execs, who seemed pretty game for the weird shit Richie and Bill wanted to do. Afterwards, one of the older guys nudged Richie and pointed to Eddie.

"Who's that? Your lawyer?" He said.

"No, that's Eddie, my PA."

"Your PA? Christ, he looks like he should be on Wall Street."

"He used to be. Then he quit."

"He quit  _ Wall Street _ to be a  _ PA _ ? What the fuck for?"

"My life was empty without someone to fetch coffee for," Eddie said, appearing at the exec's elbow. 

"You talk to everyone like that in this town?" The exec said.

"What, like I'm a human being? Richie, you have a script reading at two. We should leave now if you want lunch. Should I call ahead anywhere?" 

"No, we'll just stop at that sandwich place I like."

"I'll call them," Eddie said. He drifted away to do that and the exec looked back at Richie.

"He's rude."

"Yeah," Richie said. "It's kind of like going to that restaurant where all the wait staff are horrible to you."

"And you want that out of a PA?"

"I guess. I keep him around." 

He couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Eddie was into him. It couldn’t be true, could it? Eddie was so out of his league. He was toned and fit, had those vast, beautiful eyes and was constantly dressed perfectly. The idea he’d be chasing someone like Richie, who sometimes didn’t even bother to drag a comb through his hair and had been gently roasted on a talk show once for reusing the same clothes so often, was ridiculous. Eddie was mean, too, in a way that Richie found deeply sexy but didn’t normally indicate that someone was attracted to you. 

He did keep turning up in those shorts, though. He’d also switched out the light jacket for a skin-tight spandex shirt that showed off his shoulders. Sometimes under the running shorts he’d wear longer, also spandex shorts that clung to him even more tightly than the short-shorts and somehow that was even  _ sexier _ , the way that they highlighted the taut muscles of his thighs. Jesus, Richie just wanted to bite them. No, no, he couldn’t start thinking like that. Once the idea was in his head it was never going to get out… Too late, though. It was in there, and Eddie wasn’t helping. Every time they went running Eddie would help him stretch and check his posture, hands running over Richie’s legs and arms, often lingering the longest over his shoulders, long enough for Richie to really  _ notice _ the way Eddie squeezed the muscle there. 

It took Eddie trying to get something down off the shelf for Richie to finally accept that no, Eddie had it bad. The shelf in question was the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in Richie’s personal office, the thing on them was a file containing some financial documents, and it was placed just a little too high up for a man of 5’9” to be able to reach comfortably. Richie saw Eddie strain for it for half a second before Eddie turned to him, looking vaguely existentially annoyed, and asked for help. Richie agreed without thinking about, but when he went to get it, Eddie didn’t move out of the way. He stayed standing in front of Richie, so that to get close to the shelf there was no choice but to lean into him; Richie stood behind him, a casual hand hovering just over the side of his hip, close enough that he could definitely feel Richie pressed against him. It could have ended there, but as Richie reached up, taking maybe a little more time than he needed to, Eddie pushed back into his arms so they were flush together. It was close enough that he could feel Eddie’s ass against his dick; rubbing up against him just enough that it could be nothing but deliberate.

He pulled the file down from the shelf, holding it in one hand with his other still on Eddie’s hip, as if he was trying to steady himself. Eddie turned around to face Richie, his back against the bookcase, caged up against it by Richie’s body, the hand on his hip dropping by his side. They were close enough that Eddie could have kissed Richie’s collarbone if he wanted to; he was leaning back against the shelves a little but had a leg pushed just a little between Richie’s and if he moved, would drag themselves together in a way that was maddening. Eddie reached out to take the file but at the same time took hold of Richie’s wrist, fingers rubbing his forearm, and put the hand back on his hip.

“Thanks,” Eddie said.

_ I want to rip your underwear off with my teeth _ , Richie thought.

“You’re welcome,” Richie said, voice slightly breathless.

“Jesus Christ,” a voice said behind them.

Bill was standing in the doorway of the office. Richie leapt about three foot across the room and crashed back into his desk chair like he really thought he’d be able to trick anyone into thinking he’d been there the entire time. Eddie stood in front of the shelf and stared at Bill with his mouth hanging open like he’d forgotten that anyone else could perceive his physical form.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything,” Bill said. 

“I’m just… Going to go… Do that thing,” Eddie said.

“Oh, yeah. That thing. Totally,” Richie said, smiling the most awkwardly he ever had in his life.

“Ok… Well… Bye, Bill.” Eddie slid past him out of the office and darted out of the apartment. Richie realised he had absolutely no idea where he was going but thought that it was completely fucking fine if he was gone.

Bill stood and stared at Richie with his eyebrows raised until he wilted back in his desk chair like a flower drying out and shrivelling up. He eventually walked inside to sit down on the chair opposite Richie’s.

“So do you accept now that he wants to fuck you?” He said.

“You just said we weren’t going to talk about it!”

“Yeah, but I like being right.”

* * *

The awards show was actually pretty fun. Other comedians Richie was hanging out with seemed very surprised he’d brought his assistant to it; most of them had heard of or met Eddie, either in real life or through emails, in casual ways. Eddie had run into a lot of their assistants too, but none of them had been invited to the comedy award show like he had. Aside from Bill, who treated it as par for the course, most of the others were a little confused. They got over it pretty quickly, though, and Eddie realised with cautious optimism that they actually seemed to like him. One guy tried to tell Eddie to run and fetch them all drinks, but Richie had told that guy to go do it himself with enough genuine impatience for bullshit that Eddie’s heart nearly fluttered. 

Eddie and Richie both had a couple of drinks during the show; the others got wasted. At the end of the night, one of Richie’s friends insisted they all share the limo she’d rented, and most of them were too drunk to see reason to argue. The group all piled into the back, finding quickly that there were six seats, including the one by the driver, and seven people. There was a brief moment where Eddie was standing on the sidewalk thinking he was going to have to call an Uber when Mike, Bill’s husband, who possibly knew more than he was letting on said;

“Just let him sit in your lap, Richie!”

There was a round of drunken laughter and before he had a moment to even think about what he was doing, Eddie found himself sitting down on Richie’s lap. Richie was sitting next to the door, a little away from the others, and in the dark of the back of the car you almost couldn’t see how red he was getting when Eddie sat down on his lap. Everyone laughed again, Eddie gingerly leaning back, his ass on Richie’s thighs, unsure of how far he could push into him. Richie loosely looped his arms around Eddie’s waist, like a hug, a light joke that still resulted in him pulling Eddie back closer into him.

Eddie’s ass was right over Richie’s cock. The limo had left the theatre where the show had taken place and everyone else was having a drunken, playful argument about music. None of them were particularly paying attention to anything, and were too drunk to notice or care what was happening inches away from them. Richie’s arms were still around Eddie’s waist, loose but warm, fingers inside Eddie’s blazer so they were only separated by the thin cotton of his shirt. Fuck, Eddie wished they were alone, and that he could tear every thread of clothing he had off so Richie could fuck him until he couldn’t stand.

Carefully, he adjusted himself just a little bit, not even pushing back, just shifting how he sat. He felt Richie sigh against his skin, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The hands on his waist moved from around him to sitting on his hips and Richie pulled him in even tighter, a few layers all that was separating him from getting publicly fucked in the back of a car.

“It’s not that I think it’s a bad album, it’s just that every time I try to listen to it the noise hits my brain like a bottle of tequila and I lose all memory of how it sounds by the next morning,” Richie said. Everyone else in the car either laughed or yelled in protest, the conversation raucously loud as it moved on from him. 

Eddie rocked himself gently on Richie’s lap, rubbing himself against him just a  _ little _ . He could feel Richie’s cock getting hard underneath him, pressing into his ass and making him swallow hard. He ground himself down against it, pressing into Richie and shifting his hips from side to side so he could feel the full length of it. Fuck. His pulse was beating wildly in his throat, mouth dry. 

“Eddie, Eddie, didn’t you say you hate that band?” Bill shouted, now completely oblivious to what was happening right under his nose, laughing too hard to stay in his seat.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie said, trying to figure out what they were talking about from the scraps of conversation he’d actually heard.

A hand on his hip had slid up his thigh and was now rubbing up and down the outside of his leg. He was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else.

“I, uh, I just think their lead singer sounds so fucking obnoxious.” That was a safe bet of a criticism, he thought, Bill yelling  _ YOU SEE?! _ in drunken enthusiasm as the argument went on, Mike threatening him with divorce loudly in front of everyone. 

The hand, gently massaging the muscle of Eddie’s thigh, slipped up and over to the inside of his leg. Eddie inhaled sharply, too quiet for it to be heard over the conversation, Richie’s hand rubbing circles on the inside of his thigh. His own cock was waking up and he knew Richie could tell, hand coming perilously close to passing over it a few times. Eddie wished he would. 

He rolled his hips, rocking himself back and forth almost like he was getting fucked, barely enough for anyone to see but enough that he felt Richie sigh  _ fuck,  _ hand gripping the inside of Eddie’s thigh tight. Richie’s cock ground into the cleft of Eddie’s ass and Eddie bit his lip trying to stop himself from thinking about how much he wanted to ride him. He felt like he was about to explode like a pressure cooker, so badly did he want to feel the cock he currently had pressing against him inside him. 

“But that’s what Rich was fuckin’... Was saying earlier! Right?!” Someone in the car yelled.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Richie said. His hand moved away from the inside of Eddie’s leg and Eddie missed it intensely. “Yeah, I think it’s a mistake, y’know?”

“Richie doesn’t know anything,” Someone else protested. “Eddie, does Richie know  _ anything _ ? Or do you do all the real work?”

“Oh, me, for sure,” Eddie said, trying to keep calm as everyone else laughed and as Richie gently kissed the back of his neck and made him wilt against him like a flower. “He’d be lost without me.”

Richie then bit the scruff of his neck, just enough for Eddie’s eyes to pop open wide, gasping  _ fuck! _ involuntarily, so hard under his clothes that it was almost painful.

“You ok?” Someone said.

“I just had like, uh, a dizzy spell,” he said. “Probably the alcohol.”

He rocked himself against Richie’s lap again, but then the car came to a halt and he froze in place, the hand on his leg rapidly retracting as the door next to them was yanked open. The driver was staring expectantly into the car.

“This is your stop, right?” Someone said.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie said, hollowly.

He stepped out of the limo and the door was slammed shut behind him before he even had a chance to look at Richie. The car left and he sprinted into the house, charging up the stairs to the spare room and shutting the door hard behind him before anyone had a chance to look at him. He did not wish to be seen by any other human being on Earth at that moment, not unless that human being happened to be called Richard Tozier.

He lasted one second before he ripped his clothes off, fucked himself with the dildo he kept hidden in a box under his bed until he came over his stomach, biting down on his pillow to stop himself from crying Richie's name to the quiet house. He lay on his back on the bed for a few moments, sweating and trying to think while he recovered. He came to an unfortunate but unavoidable conclusion. 

“If I don’t fuck him I think I have to jump off a bridge,” he told his friends the next morning as they got ready for work and he sat at the table, intending to spend his day off in a miserable grave of his own digging.

Ben, who was writing two emails simultaneously on two different phones looked at him and then at Beverly, waiting for her to think of something useful to say. She patted Ben on the shoulder and put on her most sympathetic expression.

“Then you better fuck him,” she said, “because I’m not organising your funeral. I have a meeting with  _ Vogue _ this evening.”

Ben snorted into his coffee and Eddie fixed her with his coldest stare, which did not rattle her at all. 

“Is fucking your boss the best idea?” Ben said. “Even if he’s nice?”

“Well, it’s better than dying,” Beverly said. 

“That’s really the only choice? I’ve seen him on TV, is he even that hot?” Ben said. “He looks kind of schlubby. You could do better.”

“Ben, I don’t know why I talk to you about anything. You’re so fucking heterosexual.”

Ben looked helplessly at Beverly, who just laughed. 

* * *

Richie woke up at about 10 AM and wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t hungover, because he’d had relatively little to drink, but the weight of his decisions were now weighing on him so intensely he felt like he was going to die. He’d told Eddie a while before to take this day off; at the time he’d been assuming he’d have a hangover, but now he was just glad he didn’t have to see him. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to face his assistant again without the strong, unshakeable memory of his ass grinding into him. Fuck, what a goddamn disaster. He lay in bed mourning his wretched existence for a little while before he got up and grabbed his phone to lodge a complaint against his so-called friends and their dogshit advice.

“Hello?” Bill said when he answered, sounding deeply groggy.

“Bill, is your darling husband Michael Denbrough there, by any chance?” Richie said.

“No, he’s asleep, and I’m not waking him up, because it’s 10 and we didn’t get in until like, three, and I love him. Unlike you, clearly, because you  _ are  _ calling us.”

“Yeah, well, I want you to know I hate him, and he’s ruined my life.”

“That doesn’t sound right. Mike is perfect.” 

Richie slammed a mug into the coffee machine and hammered a button that would hopefully gift him with the right amount of coffee he needed to function.

“He told Eddie to sit on my lap in the car last night,” Richie said. “Eddie, my sexy, mean assistant who we both know wants to fuck me. In my lap.”

“Oh my God.” Bill was laughing. “I forgot about that. So, have you fucked yet?”

“No!”

“Why not, man? You look at him like the sun shines out of his ass, and he’s all over you. He definitely works so hard because he wants to impress you.” There was faint grumbling in the background and Richie was sure he could hear Mike getting up.

“If that’s Mike, tell him he ruined my life,” Richie said.

“Baby, Richie says you ruined his life,” Bill called out. Richie could hear a distant ‘good’. “Look, Rich. Just deal with it. You’re both grown-ups. And he’s so good at his job he’ll be the CEO of Netflix by next year so get in there before he’s your boss.”

“Right, well, I’m going to drive my car off a cliff like the end of  _ Thelma & Louise _ .”

“They kiss in that movie, so go for it.”

Richie hung up and contemplated his options. He realised very quickly that if he didn’t fuck Eddie he was probably going to go insane.

He didn’t see Eddie again until the next day, when he had a meeting with his accountant Stan to talk about tax season, which was probably the least erotic scenario anyone could ever be in. It was the kind of thing that normally bored Richie to tears, but he was so tense even after making some bullshit request for Eddie to go to a specific coffeeshop twenty-five minutes away that made Eddie give him a look of deep resentment (unfortunately hot) just to get him out of the room, that his nervous leg jiggle made the entire table shake. After a while Stan slammed a hand down on the tabletop out of nowhere and made Richie jump out of his skin.

“What the fuck is going on?” Stan said. They’d been friends for a while. “Did you commit tax fraud? I told you, Richie, if you start doing that I’m out. Unless you start paying me way more.”

“No. It’s not important,” Richie said.

Stan glared at him and then suddenly rolled his eyes, like he’d realised something.

“Is this that thing with your assistant?”

“Wh… How do you know about that?”

“Mike told me.”

“Oh, Mike needs to shut the fuck up…”

Eddie walked back into the office and Richie slipped down so low in the chair he could have slid right off and under the table. Stan looked at Eddie for a long second, like he was judging him, before he looked back at Richie, who had been gazing at Eddie in a way that was so obviously telegraphed it wouldn't have fooled a child.

“I have no patience for this,” he said. "Get it over with."

“What?” Eddie said.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Stan said.

“Now I’m very worried,” Eddie said, but he didn’t get an explanation. 

The rest of the day was about as insufferable as could be imagined. Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie was interested in him at all; he was so cool and professional that he was starting to wonder if everything had been an insane dream. Maybe he’d just conjured up the mental image of Eddie grinding in his lap until he nearly came in the back of a limo just to torture himself. That sounded about right, actually. He could see himself doing that. 

He managed to focus during the script reading for the movie, probably because Eddie was out making himself busy and Richie did really give a shit about doing a decent job, putting his all into his lines and getting along with his co-stars. It was nice to be outside of his own head for a little while; acting was therapeutic. He was feeling somewhat normal at the end of it until he looked around and saw Eddie sitting quietly in the corner of the room watching him with an alert attentiveness to everything he was saying that was so warm Richie felt like he’d forgotten how to breathe. It struck him that he actually cared about Eddie rather a lot, and it might have been the fact he did care about Eddie that was putting him in a mental gridlock in case he did anything stupid and fucked it all up. He did not want to either hurt Eddie or be hurt by him, but when their eyes met and he saw what looked like actual pride in Eddie’s face he felt a sudden jolt of connection that left him speechless.

On the drive back that evening, Eddie quietly texting, Richie found himself asking questions he normally didn’t want to pry too much into.

“I don’t think you ever really told me why you came to LA,” Richie said. “Other than wanting to produce.”

Eddie looked surprised by the topic being brought up.

“Well, I realised that I was working most days from seven until nine and getting nothing out of it and felt no control over my life, and half the reason I was doing it was to stay away from my wife, who hated me, because I was gay and in the closet and basically all of us knew it,” Eddie said. “So I quit my job, got divorced, and decided I’d do something that let me have control over something people give a shit about. But then I realised that no one in this town knows me, so now I get my kicks micromanaging your email account.”

Richie looked at him as they waited at the red light.

“That makes you happy?” He said.

“Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Well… I know it can’t last forever. I need my life to go somewhere.”

“That makes sense. I’d want to get the fuck out of the way of working for me, too.”

“No, it makes me kind of sad that I’ll have to leave one day.”

Richie flexed his hands on the steering wheel.

“Can… I say something?” Eddie said.

“Fucking of course, man. You don’t have to ask me permission for shit.”

“It’s really cool you’re in this movie,” Eddie said. He talked quickly, like he was embarrassed by what he was saying, by the earnestness of it.

“What? It’s just a dumb kids’ film.”

“I actually think a lot of your stuff is cool. It’s inspiring, actually.” 

“ _ Inspiring _ ? I tell dick jokes.”

“You know what I mean. When I first saw your specials I just thought about how much I wanted to impress you.”

Richie blinked with surprise. “ _ What _ ? Man, I didn’t even think you liked me.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Eddie looked at him like that was the most insane thing he’d ever heard.

“No! You’re so professional. I’m like, an idiot.”

“Yeah, maybe. But you’re my favourite idiot.”

Richie dropped Eddie off at his house and then went home and screamed into his pillow. 

The next morning he was up before Eddie arrived at his house for their run. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do when he saw Eddie in the usual running get-up but he felt borderline unhinged at the idea. He spent a few moments that morning fretting about the idea, standing around his apartment and running through his head what he might say. Everything that popped up was clownishly stilted and awkward, lines from a god-awful 80s porno, and he felt like an idiot for considering any of it. 

He was at his desk, attempting to do some work to get out of his own head when Eddie arrived, wandering into the office looking for him. He was wearing those  _ fucking  _ short-shorts and a tight, well-cut shirt that showed off his body and Richie what came out of Richie’s mouth was:

“Do you realise that you’re like insanely, unfairly hot?”

Eddie cracked a smile. “Not really.”

“Are you kidding me? Look at yourself.”

Eddie walked across the room. Richie had rolled back from the desk a little and there was room for Eddie to step in and sit on the edge of the desk, his legs spread. He cocked his head to the side, almost coquettish. Richie had a hand on Eddie’s knee almost before he knew what he was doing; it was like he didn’t have a choice  _ but _ to touch him. 

“Your schedule is clear until the afternoon,” Eddie said.

“Wow,” Richie said. “That’s most sexy completely unerotic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

His hand was running up the inside of Eddie’s leg, slow and exploratory. Eddie’s shorts were hiked up enough that they were tight around the very top of his thighs, cupping around his dick in a way that was very quickly going to be very obvious. Eddie himself leaned forward, placing both forearms on Richie’s shoulders, so their faces were about level. Richie could smell mint on his breath and the faint scent of cologne. Richie placed his other hand on Eddie’s other knee, spreading his legs a little wider so he could draw himself in closer. He was straining to kiss Eddie; his mouth only a whisper away.

“We’ve been dancing around this for way too long,” Eddie said, voice low. 

“Talk business to me more,” Richie mumbled. He kept kneading at Eddie’s thigh, Eddie twisting his hips on the table as fingers brushed over places where the skin was more sensitive.

“Think it’s time we sealed this deal,” Eddie said, lips quirking into a grin. “I’ve put my offer on the table.”

Richie kissed him, mouth open, their lips working slow as Eddie’s fingers curled in the back of his hair. Eddie kissed with a great amount of purpose and deliberation, like he’d really considered the best angle to tilt his head, the exact way to shape himself around Richie. Richie, on the other hand, was more eager to follow, chasing Eddie wherever he went, hungry to taste more. He might have been ‘the boss’, but it didn’t really ever feel like he was the one in command, but he also liked that; he wanted to surrender himself to Eddie entirely. 

“I love your fuckin’ legs,” Richie breathed. “Every time we went running, I couldn’t stop looking at your goddamn ass and legs. I think I would have chased them round all of fucking LA.”

“I know, that’s why I dress like this,” Eddie said.

“You knew I wanted you this whole time, huh?” Richie felt like a little ridiculous for how obvious he must have been the entire time, but Eddie just looked pleased.

“I wanted you to want me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

Richie thumbed over the inside of Eddie’s thigh as Eddie kissed along the line of his jaw and neck, teeth brushing over his skin in a way that made him shiver. One of Eddie’s hands roamed over his back and shoulders, feeling the long line of his spine; Richie hoped there was something about him that Eddie liked as much as Eddie drove him crazy. It was nice to imagine himself as something desirable. 

He was already hard and the images of what they might do were flashing through his mind rapidly. He wanted to be inside Eddie, or have his mouth around Eddie’s cock, or get blown, or…

“Christ, I want to fuck your thighs,” he said, cupping Eddie’s ass with both hands. “I just want to see how good you fuckin’ feel.”

“How badly?” Eddie said. There was something shining deep inside his eyes that made Richie’s stomach twist into knots of desire, something a little dark and a little dangerous, like a man who knew what he was capable of. 

“You want me to beg?” Richie said, half-grinning, half-nervous. Eddie pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“Yes.”

Richie thought for half a second, his mind racing and his heart pulsing so hard he could feel it in his mouth. He stood up and leaned in to kiss Eddie along his neck and jaw, one hand still massaging his inner thigh, standing between his spread legs.

“Please,” Richie said, his voice low and throaty. “Please, I want to fuck you. I’m so fuckin’ hard for you. You feel that?”

He took one of Eddie’s hands and placed it over his cock, which was straining at the material of his sweatpants. Eddie squeezed very gently and Richie let out a shuddering groan into the crook of his neck.

“ _ God _ , Eddie, please. That’s all for you. Please. Your body is driving me fucking crazy. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He dropped down to his knees, his face between Eddie’s legs, kissing along the inside of the thigh, teeth on skin just enough to make Eddie gasp and leave little pink marks on the pale flesh. Richie slid a hand up over Eddie’s own cock, feeling it hard and pressing up through the cloth of his shorts. 

“I know you want this too,” he begged, massaging Eddie’s cock, thighs flexing tighter around his head just a little, the skin hot and soft against him. “Fuck, I need you.”

He kissed Eddie again right at the join of the hip when a hand came down, brushing fingers through the curls of his hair, tilting his head back.

“You better do something about it then,” Eddie said.

He leaned over to grab his bag from where he’d dumped it by the side of Richie’s desk, offering it to Richie, who leaned back to take it. Richie was loathe to let go of him but did, opening the backpack to discover, alongside an iPad and a couple of water bottles, a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. Eddie kissed him on the corner of his mouth and then twisted his head to kiss him properly again as Richie pulled them out of the bag, dumping it back on the floor.

“You came prepared?” Richie said, with a laugh.

“A good assistant always is,” Eddie said. 

“You realise I  _ have  _ this stuff already.”

“I hate to break it to you, but the condoms in your bathroom expired like five months ago.”

“Fuck. God, I don’t get laid much.”

“You’re getting laid  _ right now _ .”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right.”

Richie stood up and tugged Eddie off the desk towards him. He leaned down to give Eddie one last, long kiss before turning him around. He grabbed Eddie by the hips, pulling him close so he could feel how hard Richie was under his clothes, cock grinding against the cleft of his ass. Eddie pushed back against him, wanting more, closer.

“Tell me what you want,” Richie said, simply, kissing the back of Eddie’s neck and making him shiver.

“I want you bend me over and fuck me until I can’t stand,” Eddie said, glancing back over his shoulder with those dark, serious eyes. It was a command. 

Richie grabbed the lube off the desk and then drizzled it over his hand, pushing his hand between Eddie’s thighs to spread it there. Eddie shuddered briefly at the coolness of the lube against the warmth of his inner leg, running in rivulets down his thighs. Richie pulled his cock free, hard and hot in his hand, making it slick. 

He bent forward to press his face into the back of Eddie’s neck as he took him by the hips, sliding his cock between his thighs. Eddie had his legs pressed together and they were soft, warm, just tight enough that the pressure and the friction was nearly, but not quite, enough. He ground himself against Eddie, breathing in the scent of his skin, the heady scent of sweat. Eddie let out a weak groan as Richie’s cock brushed up against his own erection, desensitised by the thin material of his clothes and craving more.

Richie pulled back and then pushed forward again, tightening his fingers on Eddie’s hips as he thrust against him. Eddie kept pressing back against him, desperate for more and not getting what he was seeking, the friction on his cock never enough.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Richie said. 

Eddie’s thighs tensed around his cock, the muscle hot and wet with sweat. It was like an exercise in delayed satisfaction, always coming close to the heights they were seeking but not reaching it, edging them both closer and closer to a point where they were so frantically needy that the restraint wouldn’t hold. Richie kept thrusting harder into him while Eddie kept pushing back against him, both of them grinding together with a desperation that you could almost taste in the sweat rolling down their bodies.

“Jesus, I need you inside me,” Eddie said, his voice peaked with frustration that went directly to Richie’s dick.

“Like this?” Richie said. He shoved his hand, still slick with lube, inside Eddie’s shorts, finding that there was no underwear obstructing his way. He pushed a finger inside him, feeling Eddie buck back into him with a hiss.

“Like that but a lot more,” Eddie said. 

Richie pushed a second finger inside, making Eddie gasp as he moved them slowly, gradually scissoring them wider. Eddie gripped onto the desk, digging nails into wood, breathing deep and slow, eyebrows pressed together as if he was concentrating so completely on the gentle motions of Richie’s hand. 

“I can’t help but notice you are completely commando under these,” Richie said.

Eddie groaned low. “I thought it would save time.”

“Fuck. That’s kind of slutty, Eduardo,” Richie said, appreciatively.

“I’ve been wearing hot pants when we run for weeks because I want my boss to rail me. All of this is slutty. Are you going to  _ fuck me _ or  _ not? _ ”

“Alright,” Richie said. Not that he was complaining. “You’re keeping these shorts on, though.”

“I’ll wear them as long as you want on the condition you fucking split me open right now.”

He hooked a thumb in the leg of Eddie’s shorts and twisted them to the side, removing his fingers so he could take his cock in his hand and press the tip inside. He bit his lip, feeling how hot and tight Eddie was, the friction of skin on skin. He poured on a little more lube to help ease himself inside, Eddie making a soft whine as his hands scratched at the surface of the desk, needy to the point of totally losing his self-control. He was leaving grooves in the wood.

“Jesus, you’re tight. Have you ever been fucked before?” Richie said.

“Why? You want to be the first?” Eddie’s voice was breathy and trembling but still acerbic.

“Kind of sexy to imagine that. That I’m the guy who you were waiting for.” Richie pushed in a little deeper, jerking his hips in. “That I made you desperate. And you wanted me so bad.”

“You do make me desperate. You know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about this?”

“Jesus. That’s hot.”

“It would be really hot if you used the rest of your giant dick instead of your huge mouth for once.”

Richie dug his fingers into Eddie’s hips, tight enough to leave marks on skin, and snapped his hips forward, thrusting all the way inside. Eddie let out a shout, arching his back to feel Richie as deep inside himself as possible. He pushed back, stirring his hips so he could feel Richie in just the right spot, his breath high and pitched. 

He fucked Eddie slow at first, like he was savouring it, rocking in and out with a smooth rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. He loved the way Eddie moved with him, the two of them completely in tune with each other. Richie bent down to kiss Eddie’s neck, biting down just enough to make him groan, throwing his head back beside Richie's. Their eyes were at the same level and Eddie’s eyes seemed vast and lost in the moment, holding Richie’s gaze until he snapped his hips in and then Eddie’s eyes would roll back, mouth open soundlessly.

"Come on,  _ harder _ ," Eddie managed to croak out, and who was Richie to question him? 

He sped up, Eddie still pushing back as the desk quaked under him, wood rattling against the wall as Richie thrust into him harder and deeper. Eddie was so fucking tight, so hot and so willing against him, always moving with him, almost leading him. 

"Wait," Eddie said. 

He moved forward, sliding off Richie in a way that made him groan. Eddie turned, glossy with sweat, and pushed Richie down towards the desk chair behind him. It didn't take much more direction. Richie sat and Eddie straddled his lap, legs splayed wide over his hips. Eddie used a hand to guide Richie's cock back inside him before slowly sinking himself down onto it, gently rocking his hips until it was sat deep in him. He sighed heavily when it was, like he was finally satisfied. 

Richie was kissing Eddie's throat and leaving hickeys over the pale flesh, his hands clutching desperately at hips and clothing, trying to pull Eddie closer to him. He tugged Eddie down harder onto his cock and was rewarded with a long moan, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. He wanted to kiss every little sound from Eddie's lips, desperate to taste him as he began bouncing in Richie's lap, moving himself up and down with the thighs he had tight around Richie's waist. He kept one hand in Richie's hair, pulling gently at the roots to keep it tilted back towards him, the other sliding up Richie's shirt to squeeze his chest. The slight rub and pressure on his nipple as Eddie rolled it in his hand made Richie whine, jerking his hips up harder against him.

"You're so fucking hot. Jesus Christ," Richie groaned, his breathing uneven and ragged. "I love your fuckin' ass. I want to see you cum. Want to see you so fucked out you can't even talk."

"I love your fat fucking cock," Eddie said. "You feel so good inside me. When you hit right there just like… Just like  _ that _ …" 

He raised himself up and then dropped back down, arching his body to feel Richie in just the right place, jerking his body in little thrusts, hitting the same spot over and over. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed, almost like he was in deep concentration. Richie's heart was thundering, breathing sharply as heat in his chest rose. Every brush of skin was burning bright, Eddie's fingers on the back of his neck and on his chest searingly hot as he felt himself building up to a peak. Watching Eddie was making him crazy; the intensity on his face, the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders, the way he kept arching and thrusting himself against Richie like there was just one tiny bit closer he could get to the perfect high…

He kept fucking Eddie but he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He buried his face in the crook of Eddie's neck, groaning hot and wet on his skin as he thrust in and out. 

"I'm so fucking close," he said, his chest heaving, his voice a strained almost whisper.

"You wear a condom and next time I'll let you finish inside me," Eddie said. 

" _ Fuck _ , that's a… Fuck… Incen...Tive."

Eddie grinned at him as he completely lost control of his words. He slid off Richie, the motion making him shudder, then came to sit with Richie's aching cock pressed up against his own. They kissed open-mouthed and messy, lips bruised and tasting of sweat as their cocks rubbed together, Eddie's straining at the ruined material of his shorts. Richie clutched him tight, panting high and fast as he ground himself against Eddie, the heat of their bodies and the pressure building and building. He couldn't take it, couldn't take it for one more second, could feel himself unravelling as he pushed his face into Eddie's shoulder; sweat, teeth on skin, hot breath, fingernails digging deep, trails and marks, bruises, heat, heat, heat…

He came with a gasp, chest heaving, head swimming. He could barely see, his glasses askew and his mouth open as he tried to breathe. Eddie stood, taking a couple of steps back almost like he was presenting himself. Cum rolled down the inside of Eddie’s thighs, dripping messily down his legs. His body was painted with bite marks and fingerprints, Richie's enthusiasm visible in every pink scrape and bruise. He was shaking as he leaned back against the desk again, bracing himself against the wood. After a moment, Richie followed him, standing to kiss him again.

Without asking Richie glided a hand down Eddie’s stomach and inside his shorts, finally pulling his cock free. He was so close to finishing that the light touch of Richie’s hand made him shudder, thrusting against him like he was clutching desperately at an edge before he slipped off. He pushed a hand down on Richie’s shoulder and Richie took the suggestion, sinking down to his knees. He kept a hand on Eddie’s cock and the other on his ass, massaging the flesh before he wrapped his lips around the very tip. He licked a bead of precum from the slit, rolling his tongue over the sides. Eddie’s fingers were tight in his hair, tugging at it almost plaintively, urging him forward. Richie was all too willing to take Eddie’s cock deeper into mouth, sliding lips and tongue over it as he groped at his ass, trying to take him the final step towards finishing.

Eddie thrust against him, jerky and uneven, too close to be anything but frantic, every movement accompanied with a high gasp. Richie watched him, his face and neck pink as he drew closer to the edge, his eyes glassy with lust. His cock was heavy and sweet in Richie's throat as he swallowed around it, making Eddie whine his name, a high keen of  _ fuck, Richie _ , seconds before he came. When he did cum he was straining, gasping, twisting fingers in Richie's hair. For that one moment he lost every bit of composure, coming apart like a glass being dropped and coating everything in beautiful, glittering rainbow pieces. Richie swallowed, already thinking about how badly he wanted to see him like this again.

There was silence afterwards, Richie shakily standing up as Eddie blinked and tried to catch his breath, the two of them staring at each other. After a second, they both cracked up, Eddie covering his face with his hand as he laughed, blushing again. Richie ruffled his hair, Eddie jokingly slapping his hand away. 

"I need a shower," Eddie said, voice a little hoarse. 

"Yeah. Uh, yeah. You got a little… Something right there," Richie said, gesturing at him.

"I cannot deal with you right now," Eddie said. "I hate you."

"Sure, ok, not what you were saying when I was eight inches deep, but sure."

"Oh, my  _ God _ . Shut up. I'm going to take a shower." He was still laughing even when he ran for the guest bathroom. Richie's entire body was aching, but despite all that, he was smiling too.

* * *

Eddie was wearing one of Richie's T-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts, both of which were almost comically oversized on him. He was scrubbed freshly clean, hair still damp and fluffy from the shower. Richie was in the kitchenette, dressed in a robe and making coffee, and Eddie came to sit near him at the kitchen island. Richie handed him a latte, which made Eddie look incredibly grateful.

"Good outfit, good look for you," Richie said.

"Fuck off," Eddie said.

"No, I mean it. Sexy."

"You wouldn't prefer something a bit shorter and tighter? I seem to recall something like ' _ ugh Edsssss your legsssss _ '." 

He rolled up one leg of the shorts a little to show off a set of teeth marks on the inside of his thigh.

"Not right now, I think my heart would give out," Richie said.

Eddie laughed and took a long drink of coffee. Richie got his own coffee and came to sit by him at the island, leaning his elbows on the countertop.

"So… Now we've had the classic first date experience of barebacking like wild animals in my office…" Richie said. "Would you want… To get dinner sometime?" 

"Hm," Eddie said. "There's an issue."

Richie looked at him with an expression of horror before Eddie smirked and he realised that it was a joke.

"I'll have to get time off work, and my boss is a real asshole," Eddie said.

"Oh, I think I know your boss. Tall guy, incredibly handsome, dick like a stallion?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"He's not so bad, you just have to go through his assistant first. I wouldn't fuck with his assistant. Would fuck him, though."

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking. He glanced at Richie and then away, almost bashful, as if it made sense to be bashful when they'd been screwing half an hour ago. 

"I would like that," he said. 

"Good," Richie said. "I do… I do really like you." 

"You better." Eddie stirred his coffee. Then, a little more vulnerable: "I really like you, too."

"Yeah, I fucking hope so." 

They both smiled then; there was a sense of something genuine then, an earnestness that was making Richie's heart beat like he was a kid in sixth grade, talking to his first crush. He really, really didn't want to fuck this up. The sex was good, the sex was really,  _ really _ good, but he felt almost as good every time he made Eddie laugh. Oh God, he thought he might be in l…

"Oh, by the way," Eddie said, "you have a meeting with Netflix in an hour."

"Shit!" 

Richie knocked the chair over in his haste to run back to the bedroom and grab some clothes. Eddie picked it up.

"What did you ever do without me?" Eddie called after him.

"I have no fucking idea! If we're late though, I will have to fire you." 

Eddie laughed so hard you'd think that was the funniest joke Richie ever told. The idea of him ever letting Eddie go on purpose? It probably was. He threw some clothes on and made himself look halfway presentable. When he came out to the living room, Eddie kicked his shoes over to him.

"You know, about the producing thing," Richie said, "me and Bill have been talking about our next project… Look, the thing is, we know you're way too fucking smart and experienced to be spending the rest of your life fetching my fucking shoes like a golden retriever in a Gucci suit. So, before we lose you to Disney or whatever, you think you could be tempted to work with us on something?"

Eddie looked startled for a second, almost like he hadn't ever considered this as a possibility. Richie kicked his shoes on, something in his chest fluttering like he was scared of being rejected. 

"I'm not asking you because of…" Richie said.

"I didn't think you were, but now I think you are," Eddie said.

"You make my life way too fucking complicated."

"I'm fucking kidding. I'll… I'll think about it." Eddie brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. 

"Yeah… Hey, could I kiss you again? Would that be alright?"

"I think I could live with that."

Richie did go and kiss him then, stumbling over his own unlaced sneakers before he got there, kissing him soft and sweet, far more gentle than before. It was around that moment that Richie's door came open and Bill walked inside like he fucking owned the place, staring at the two of them with a look of total shock that changed immediately into a huge, amused grin.

"Jesus Christ," he said. "Fucking  _ finally _ ."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy that TOTAL nonsense! 
> 
> Make sure to check out my other fics Not Quite Young (now complete!) and Portrait of Two Boys!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @saints-row-2 or twitter @rorschachisgay


End file.
